


To Say

by Celia_and



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Babies, Childbirth, Death in Old Age, F/M, Growing Old Together, Hopeful Ending, Implied Reincarnation/Life After Death, Old Age, One Shot, Parenthood, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Pregnancy, Sexual Content, Soulmates, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:07:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23958919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celia_and/pseuds/Celia_and
Summary: Sometimes she traces the three letters on his wrist with her finger. Sometimes she kisses them. He knows it’s her way of saying silently what she won’t say aloud. Because when she says it, it might be the last time.Ben.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 69
Kudos: 425
Collections: Galactic Idiots Collection





	To Say

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BensCalligraphySet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BensCalligraphySet/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Произнести](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25738258) by [Elafira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elafira/pseuds/Elafira)



> This short piece is based on a prompt from the unbelievably creative and wonderful [@galacticidiots](https://twitter.com/galacticidiots):
> 
> _Soulmates AU where the last words your soulmate will ever say to you are written on your skin. Kylo Ren has a single word on his pale wrist — ‘Ben.’_
> 
> I wrote this as a follow-up to my other post-TROS one-shot ([Between](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23617543)), but it can also stand on its own. The premise is that after TROS, Rey has recovered Ben from the World Between Worlds.
> 
> Fair warning: I had teared up while writing other fics, but I’d never full-out sobbed until this one.

By [@derpy_mommy](https://twitter.com/Derpy_mommy)

Sometimes she traces the three letters on his wrist with her finger. Sometimes she kisses them. He knows it’s her way of saying silently what she won’t say aloud. Because when she says it, it might be the last time.

_Ben._

So she calls him “Solo” instead, with a playful grin. Or “Love,” sometimes, as a reward when he’s been very good. He basks in it, when she does. She can’t resist doing it often.

But usually she doesn’t call him anything at all. He’s so attuned to her, she doesn’t have to. When she needs him he’s there before she can say it. A small tug on their bond brings him bounding to her side.

It frightens her a little, how easily she picks up the habit of being loved.

The only time she ever slips up is when he’s inside of her—when bliss curves her spine and curls her toes and she has to bite her tongue to keep from saying it. When she can’t help it and it comes spilling out, she latches on to him: afraid he’ll go again without leaving even a sweater.

One day she has something new to call him, and does, with a significant hand on her still-flat middle. _Father._ He lights up and scoops her into his arms and peppers her face and belly with kisses until she laughs through tears.

She knows he already knew: he felt the spark of brand-new life as soon as she did. But she knows too that he was waiting until she could say the words.

It took a little while. She’s still getting used to happiness.

When the midwife lays a baby girl on her chest, slimy and squalling, she wants to say his name but just touches his wrist and looks up at him instead. _Look what we did._

He says it for her, with an awe that chokes him. “Oh, Rey. Oh, Hanna.”

She wants to say it when Hanna takes her first toddling steps into Ben’s outstretched arms. She wants to say it, too, when Hanna sneaks out of her room at night and they catch her trying to pull her new brother out of his crib to play with him.

She wants to say it when Hanna notices, “I’m as tall as you, mom!” and grabs a cookie and bounds outside to meet her friends. She grabs his wrist instead, and he wraps her up in arms that understand.

Time doesn’t stop, not even for them.

She wants to say it when they peek into Hanna’s room as she studies her face in the mirror one nuptial morning, radiant in white and lace and love.

She wants to say it when she holds their first grandchild for the first time, and every grandchild after.

She wants to say it as Ben starts walking a bit slower, with more grey in his hair and a stoop to his shoulders that wasn’t there before.

She wants to bargain for more time.

She wants to say it when he kisses the creases by her eyes that she won through laughter and the wrinkles on her hands that were a gift from years. She wants to say it more and more as she gets more tired. But she can’t, because there’s still so much love she needs to give him.

* * *

It can’t be time yet. But it is.

She’s lying on their bed under a patchwork quilt, surrounded by a family that’s _hers_.

He’s right there beside her, of course—always—holding her hand.

And finally she knows that it’s over, but that it’s okay.

She turns her head toward him.

He smiles a reassurance.

“Ben.”

It’s like falling asleep.

* * *

Hanna can’t see for the tears.

When her husband gasps beside her, she wipes her eyes quickly and looks up.

They’re gone, both of them. This time her father left a grey sweater. Thick wool, with knobby buttons.

She picks it up slowly, reverently.

 _Of course._ She’s heard her parents’ story, she should’ve known.

It was too much love for just one lifetime.

**Author's Note:**

> ♥️


End file.
